


Finders Keepers

by second_hand_heaven



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Clark and Diana to the rescue, DC Trinity, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Horticulturalist Bruce, Kid Dick Grayson - Freeform, Lost child trope, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Reporter Clark Kent, Superwonderbat, he's trying okay, poly trinity, what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: Bruce takes his newly adopted son Dick to the Gotham Fair, but loses him in the crowd. Thankfully, a young couple stumble across the boy, and help him find his father. And wow, they are hot. Good work, Dick. Ultimate wingman.In which Bruce’s alignment is clearly disaster bi, but he’s trying his best. He is valid. Dick is trying to collect parents. He’s succeeding.





	Finders Keepers

**Author's Note:**

> A meet-cute fic for the trinity, set in a no-powers AU. In this verse, Bruce adopts eight year old Dick. 
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to TantalumCobalt for proofing this for me! Much appreciated, Ren. Any and all mistakes are mine.  
> Please enjoy the cuteness.

He's barely across the threshold before he gets an armful of overexcited eight year old.

“Hey Bruce, guess what?”

“What?”

“No, you have to guess!”

“Dick,” Bruce says, in his newly minted ‘no-nonsense Dad voice’.

“The Gotham Fair is on next weekend!”

“Is it now?” he asks, colouring his words with interest. He doesn't mention that Wayne Enterprise is the largest sponsor of the event, or that his investors have been pestering him about this for weeks.

 

He'd planned to make a small appearance, shake a few a hands, take a few photos, and leave.

 

But Dick hasn't quite got the hang of the press yet. Their last public outing had ended in a panic attack and the threat of a lawsuit against the Gotham Gazette.

 

He hadn’t wanted to take Dick with him, but Dick seems so excited about the idea of the Fair. Surely there’d be no harm to come from it.

“Would you like to go?”

The boy nods emphatically.

“I think we can manage that.”

 

* * *

 

It’s already busy at the Fair by the time they arrive.

They’re dressed down for the day, bundled up against the autumn chill.

 

Dick’s eyes light up at the sight of the towering scaffolding for the tower drop ride. A sign emblazoned on the side screams _, ‘Tower of Death’_ , with flames licking at the bottom of the letters. From the way the steel frame is bending in the wind, it's quite an apt description.

 

They watch as the seats rise to the top, dozens of legs dangling in the breeze.

Then suddenly, it drops.

Squeals of fear and shrieks of laughter echo through the fairground.

It's enough to make Bruce nauseous.

 

Dick beams up at him. “I want to go on the Tower of Death!”

Bruce's heart skips a beat. No no no. Absolutely not.

Given the boy’s height, there aren't that many rides they can go on, least of all the _‘Tower of Death’._ He tells him as much. “Maybe when you’re older.”

Dick harrumphs, arms crossed, but doesn't push any further.

 

Instead, Bruce steers them towards the queue for the tea cups.

He could easily cut to the front, flashing a signature Brucie Wayne smile. But not today. Today is for Dick, not a Wayne Enterprise press stunt.

 

Besides, it doesn't take long for them to get to the front of the line.

They're seated together in their own teacup, the floral blue one, and the ride starts up in a slow spinning motion. It speeds up, Dick's yellow scarf fluttering in the wind.

“Bruce, this is boring,” Dick whines, dragging out the last syllables.

“This is my favourite ride,” Bruce tells him, with absolutely no hint of sarcasm.

The boy rolls his eyes, but he doesn't complain. As the ride reaches its maximum speed, Bruce catches a smile on Dick's lips.

 

They exit the ride, and Bruce feels more optimistic about their little adventure.

 

It's nearing lunchtime, and the crowd’s grown even thicker.

He reaches for Dick’s hand. “Don't want you getting lost.”

 

Dick’s stomach growls.

“Hungry?” Bruce says with a grin.

He nods. “Can we get corn dogs?”

 

Alfred would have a fit, but Alfred isn't here to see it. Bruce concedes.“C’mon, let's get some food to feed that monster before it escapes and eats me!”

 

Dick’s hand slipped from his. It's alright. He takes a deep breath. Dick’s right next to him.

 

He looks down, and the dark head at his hip is gone.

“Richard?”

Bruce stops in his tracks. He spins around, eyes darting through the crowd. Where the hell is he?

He can't find him anywhere.

 

Shit. He’s lost his son already.

 

* * *

 

It’s their first date, and Clark isn’t entirely sure what he was thinking.

Diana's smart, sophisticated, and so very _gorgeous_ ,  and he decides to take her to the Gotham Fair of all places?

 

To be fair, he is meant to be working. This fluff piece on the Gotham Fair is the closest thing he's had to a holiday in months.

Diana had seemed interested in going, so he'd jumped at the chance to finally spend some time with her, outside of the roles of interviewer and interviewee.

Should he try and win her a prize? Maybe not. Last time he tried that, back at Smallville’s Corn Festival, Maisie Williams decked him for his troubles.

Maybe Diana could win one for him? Or they could both win one for the other?

 

She hadn’t seemed impressed when Clark paid for her entry ticket, but the vendor didn’t appear keen to accept her euros as payment.

 

He'd laughed it off, told her she could pay for their next date, and she had perked up at that.

 

But now? It’s weird. He's made it weird with his overthinking. When did dating become so hard? He feels like there’s something missing, but he can't place it.

 

“How long are you in Gotham for?”

“The exhibit lasts for a month, then artifacts head back to Greece. As for me, I don't know.”

 

He wants to ask her to stick around, maybe flirt a little and ask what would convince her to stay in the US a little longer. But it _is_ there first date, no matter how long they've been leading up to it. He doesn't know if he _can_ ask her to stay

 

He's so busy trying to think of what to say, he doesn't see the figure in front of him until it's too late.

 

Sprawled on the ground in from of him is a gangly boy with a mop of dark curls.

“‘m sorry, mister.” There are tears in the boy’s red-rimmed eyes. Clark feels awful.

“It's my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you okay?” He looks around for an angry parent, or an indignant sibling, anyone really. There's no one.

The child's alone.

Diana crouched next to them. “Are you alright, my darling? Where are your parents?”

 

The boys face clouds over. “Bruce says I shouldn't talk to strangers.”

“You’re not wrong, but I'm a reporter, see?” He holds out his “press” badge.

“Bruce says I shouldn't talk to reporters either,” the kid huffs.

Diana barely stifles a giggle. “I'm Diana, and this is Clark. What's your name?”

“Richard. Or Dick, if we're friends.”

“Where did you last see Bruce?”

 

“I don't remember.” His bottom lip wavers again. “We were meant to meet at the information centre if we got split up, but I can't find it.” Dick's voice cracks and it makes something ache in Clark's chest.

“How about we help you find the information centre and get you back to Bruce, hm?”

“Here.” Clark hands Dick his phone. “You hang onto this, and if you feel like you can't trust us,  call 911.” A thought strikes him. “Or you can call your dad.”

Dick’s face scrunches up in distress. "I don't-"

Abort abort. Clark's waiting for the ground to swallow him up. Diana must think he’s a terrible person. He’s made the kid cry twice already.

She places an assuring hand on Dick's shoulder, dissolving his tears. “It’s alright, I’m sure he’s waiting at the centre for you.”

The boy considers for a moment, brow furrowed. “Okay.”

“Alright, I think the information centre is that way. Jump up on my shoulders. You should be able to see him better.”

He kneels down, his back facing the boy. Dick climbs up onto his shoulders, squealing in delight when Clark rises to his feet.

 

Dick starts to cheer up when they begin heading in the direction of the information desk.

 

“Are you two married?” he asks with that childlike curiosity.

Diana laughs. “No, my darling. This is our first date.”

“Oh.” He frowns for a moment, deep in thought. “You should go on a date with Bruce.”

Uh, what? “Which one of us?”

Dick doesn't think twice before answering. “Both,” he says, and nods in fierce approval of his own words.

Clark looks at Diana, who merely shrugs in a ‘I’d be down for it’ kind of way.

 

“I see him!” Dick clambers down from his shoulders like an acrobat.

He races through the crowd, yellow scarf flying behind him.

Clark spots the man Dick's running toward. Bruce, he presumes, is dressed all in black, grey starting to streak his hair at his temples.

 

Shit.

Clark and Diana share a look.

He's hot.

 

* * *

 

Bruce paces out the front of the information centre, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles are white.

Another five minutes. He’ll wait another five minutes.

Dick is fine. He'll be fine. People lose their kids in public all the time. And they find each other again. It's a statistical anomaly for a child to-

“Bruce!”

He turns at the sound and sees Dick’s racing toward him through the crowd.

 

“Dick.” He drops to his knees, enveloping the boy in a crushing hug.

He's aware of the two figures standing above, but he pays them no mind. His son’s okay.

“You're okay.”

He pulls away just enough to look Dick in the eyes. “Hey, don’t run off again.”

“‘M sorry, Bruce, I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles.

Bruce's words soften immediately. “I know, chum. I’m sorry. It’s okay now.” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes away Dick’s tears.

 

Bruce finally turns his attention to the two figures standing above him. “I-” The rest of his words are lost because, wow, they are gorgeous. Of all the people to find and return his son, they just _had_ to be the most attractive couple at the Fair. Of course they did. Damn it.

 

He knows he should be talking, but he feels like he’s going into shock.

 

Dick covers for him, and he’s never been more grateful. “Bruce, these are my new friends, Diana and Clark.”

He rises to stand, holding out his hand on autopilot. “Bruce Wayne.”

The man gapes at him. He doesn’t even try to hide it. “ _Wayne Enterprise_ Bruce Wayne?”

His signature grin, cocky as all hell, tugs at his lips. “The very same.”

 

“Uh, Clark Kent.”

“Diana Prince.”

He shakes their hands, relishing the warmth of their touch.

 

“Thank you for finding him.” He’s not quite sure how to express his gratitude in words.

 

“It was no problem, really,” Clark says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He's all farm boy innocence with a winning smile and it endears Bruce even further.

 

Bruce pulls his phone from his back pocket, and types a message to Alfred without looking.

He's thankful, but still a little wary. His gut tells him they're safe, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

 

There's a tug on the edge of his coat. He bends down so he's eye level with his son again.

“They're on their first date,” Dick tells him in a child's whisper, loud enough enough for everyone to hear.

 

Of course. It's just his luck.

“Maybe we should leave them be, Dick.”

 

Clark's eyes widen. “No! Uh, I mean, you don't have to?”

He looks desperately to Diana for assistance. “We were about to get some ice cream, would you like to join us, Bruce? Richard?”

 

Bruce and Dick share a look.

“Sounds good. My treat.”

 

* * *

 

They do get some ice cream, finally. And any other food they can get their hands on.

Ice cream, corn dogs, and cotton candy don't really constitute a meal, but Dick was far from complaining. Alfred would have a stern word with him later about it, but for now he enjoys himself.

 

They quietly give the duck gallery a miss, and instead head for milk bottle toss. After Clark knocks over all the bottles, including the ones lined up for other patrons, the owner hands them the biggest prize in a bid to make them leave.

 

Bruce aces the clown toss, laughing along with Dick as Clark tries and fails to get one ball in the clown’s mouth.

 

Diana beats the ‘test your strength’ hammer game, lighting up the machine to the very top, much to Dick's delight. She actually manages to break it, seeing as the lights refuse to turn off.

She gives an apologetic shrug to the owner, who begrudgingly hands her the prize. Bruce slides the owner a few hundreds and Lucius’s work number.

 

In the end, they each win a prize, which they each give to Dick.

By the time the Fair is winding down, Bruce can barely see Dick’s head over the stuffed toy elephant, kangaroo, and teddy bear piled in his arms.

 

The sun's just starting to set when Bruce gets the call that their ride home is ready.

 

Alfred’s waiting for them by the car. “Made some new friends have you, Master Dick?”

 

Friends. Alfred's given them the all clear, then. “Thank heavens,” he mutters under his breath.

 

Dick's making introductions. “Alfred, this is Clark and Diana.”

“Alfred Pennyworth, it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Clark says, extending a hand to the butler.

Alfred raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

 

They're about to say their farewells, but Bruce can't bring himself to say goodbye just yet.

“Would you like to join us for supper?”

“We wouldn't want to intrude,”

“No intrusion at all. Consider it an opportunity for me to thank you for looking after Dick today.”

Clark and Diana share a glance that Bruce can't read, before nodding.

“We'd like that very much.”

 

* * *

 

They arrive back at the Manor and settle in the drawing room.

 

Diana's examining the vase collection shelved against the far wall.

 

Alfred returns with a tray of of drinks: tea for Diana, coffee for Bruce, and cocoa for Clark and Dick.

“Two marshmallows!” Dick says, peering into Clark's mug. “Alfred must really like you.”

Diana slides onto the love seat next to Clark, clasping her mug in both hands.

 

Dick's nearly asleep on the other couch, curling against Bruce's side.

He can't blame him. It's been a big day.

 

“Time for bed for you, I think,” Bruce says with a smile, watching a pout tug at Dick’s lips.

“But Bruce!”

“Come on, now. If you're good, I promise to ask Alfred for pancakes for breakfast.”

Dick’s eyes light up, and he races from the room and up the stairs.

Then promptly races back downstairs and flings himself through the doorway and into Clark and Diana’s waiting arms.

“I had a lot of fun today. Thank you for looking after me.”

“Our pleasure, Richard.”

Clark ruffles his hair. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

Dick gives them one more squeeze before heading to bed.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes and heads up the stairs. “I'll be back soon.”

 

He waits in Dick’s bedroom, absentmindedly taking in the space. It's messy, clothes and new toys strewn about. The boy hadn't had much when he moved in. Hadn't even had a room to himself before.

But now that Dick's here, the room, the house, it all looks lived in. It warms something inside him.

 

He'll have a word with Dick about keeping his room tidy, but it can wait until the morning.

 

There's a phone on Dick's nightstand that doesn't belong to him.

When Dick emerges from the en suite in his pyjamas, Bruce asks him, “am I raising a pickpocket?”

“It’s Clark’s,” he pouts indignantly. “He gave it to me so I could trust him.”

Bruce pockets the phone. “And do you?”

“Yeah. When can we see him again? And Diana. I like Diana too.”

 

“We'll see. Brushed your teeth?”

The boy grins toothily at him, all minty fresh, and climbs into bed.

 

Bruce pulls up the covers and sits by Dick’s side. “Trying to collect some more parents, are you?” he asks.

Dick gives him a shrug, but there's a grin tugging at his lips. “They're really nice.”

“Yes they are. It was nice of them to look after you today.”

“You thought they were pretty.”

 

Was he _that_ obvious? “Maybe. That's beside the point.”

But Dick isn't dissuaded that easily. “When are you going to marry them?”

“Bit soon for that, don’t you think?”

Dick shakes his head vehemently.

 

“First,” Bruce sighs, “I can’t marry two people. That's not how these things work, Dick.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Why not?”

Good question. “That's just how it is. One day, maybe, it’ll change.”

Dick’s expression brightens at that. “I hope so. I'd like to have a mom and two dads.”

He can't really begrudge Dick that.

“For now, you’ll have to put up with one dad. Think you can manage that?”

“No,” Dick teases, poking out his tongue.

 

Bruce grins. Oh he is _so_ in for it. His hands reach for Dick’s armpits, tickling the poor boy until he’s thrashing against the sheets, shrieking with laughter.

“Okay, okay!”

Bruce relents, smile spread wide across his features. He pulls up the sheets and duvet to Dick’s chin.

“One dad's okay with me, Bruce.”

“I'm glad.” He strokes Dick’s cheek, before pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Night, Dickie-bird.”

“Night, Bruce.”

 

Bruce switches off the light, shuts the door, and heads back down the stairs to his guests.

 

Clark and Diana had migrated closer on the love seat in his absence.

“Dick’s got it in his head that we’re all getting married.”

Diana gasps, playful smirk dancing across her lips. “But we haven't set a date yet!”

“How about a spring wedding?” Clark suggests, arm draped across Diana's shoulders. “Ma always says spring weddings bring the most bountiful marriages.”

Diana claps her hands. “Perfect.”

“Please don't encourage him,” Bruce groans, sinking further down into the armchair.

“Clark or your son?” she grins.

“Both.”

Clark pouts. “Don't you want to marry us, Bruce?”

 

Bruce sighs. “We've just met.” He tries to sound gruff, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, we have to start somewhere. Let's play twenty questions!”

Bruce barely suppresses a groan. “Let's not.”

“Come one, surely you want to know something?”

 

“Clark Jonathan Kent, twenty-seven. Raised in Smallville, Kansas, currently lives in Metropolis. Works for the Daily Planet, which I own. Has a dog named ‘Krypto’, not spelled like the currency, I might add.”

Clark stares at him, mouth open. “How’d you-”

There's no point lying. “I had Alfred run a background check on the both of you.”

“What? When?”

“As soon as I learnt your names.” His words trail off, something like shame starting to sink in.

 

Clark laughs, and Bruce is caught off-guard by its heartiness. “Of course you would.”

“I-” He tries to speak up to in defence of himself, but Diana beats him to it.

“You care about your son. I think your mild paranoia is justified.”

 

“So what about us? Don't we get to learn anything of reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne?”

 

He spreads out his arms, palms facing up in a gesture of openness. “Anything you want to know, ask.”

“Your number?”

Bruce pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and tosses it to Diana. She taps away, before passing it to Clark.

“Interests?”

“Jazz music. Extreme sports. Horticulture.”

He leans forward conspiratorially, gesturing Clark and Diana to do the same. “I'm actually cultivating a new species of rose at the moment. I'm calling it a Pennyworth blue. Should be finished in the next month, just in time for his birthday.”

“You breed plants?”

He nods, suddenly a little shy.

“That's really interesting, Bruce. Alfred will love it.”

He looks up and catches a glimpse of a fond smile gracing both Clark and Diana's features.

 

“I believe this is yours.” He tosses Clark's phone to him.

“Thanks, B.”

He misses a beat. “B?” Really?

“B for Bruce.” Clark's brow furrows slightly. “Don't you like it?”

He doesn't _not_ like it. It's just… new.

It might grow on him after all. “Hnn.”

“I think that means he likes it,” Diana assures him with a smirk.

 

“So what else can you tell us about Bruce no middle name Wayne?”

 

He send Clark a wry smile. “You just look that up?”

Clark just shrugs, phone still in his hand.

 

“Gotham's Most Eligible Bachelor for six years running. Currently looking to change that. I also have a fondness for Greco-Roman art.” He grins, feeling playful. “I hear there's an exhibition on at the Gotham museum, but I won't be able to clear my schedule to attend it for the next month or so.” His pout is entire;y put-upon.

“Perhaps the curator could be _persuaded_ to extend the show?” Diana's expression mirrors his.

“Perhaps Wayne Enterprise could keep the exhibit in Gotham on a more permanent basis?” He berates himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. It's too forward. It's too soon. It's-

“Perhaps that could be arranged?”

 

Clark stares at him as though he's just done a magic trick.

“What else would you like to know?”

“Would a thing between us, the three of us,” Clark clarifies, “be something you'd consider?”

“Would you consider it?” The deflection leaves his mouth so naturally.

“I asked you first,” he says, a challenge nipping at his words.

“It's a two-for-one offer. I might be a billionaire, but even I know a bargain when I see one.”

“You saying we're cheap?”

“I'm saying that you're good value for money.”

 

He's enjoying himself, but Bruce can't stifle the yawn that claws its way from his throat.

 

“I suppose we'd better be going,” Clark says, although he makes no more to stand.

 

“I'll have a car take you two home.”

Alfred, on cue, silently appears in the doorway. “Right away, sir.”

 

Bruce helps them into their coats and walks them to the door.  

 

They linger on the front steps in comfortable silence.

The car pulls up, headlights illuminating their profiles like they’re some kind of ethereal beings. Bruce smiles softly at the view. They're utterly gorgeous.

He presses a kiss to both their cheeks in farewell.

 

Diana hesitates on the bottom step. “We will be seeing you again, won't we, Bruce?”

He grins down at them. “We've got a wedding to plan, don't we?”

 

They’re still laughing as they slide into the back seat.

 

Bruce watches the car pull away with a smile he can't wipe from his lips.

Once the tail lights are out of sight, he slips back inside. Alfred shoots him a knowing look, but Bruce can't bring himself to care.

 

Dick found them, but maybe he’ll keep them.

After all, it's finders keepers.

 

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Comments and kudos are always welcome.  
> Come chat with me about the trinity, or anything else on my tumblr [here](http://second-hand-heaven.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -Nova xx


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